Stable Girl
by Sus
Summary: A stablehand is nice to Grima, but he does not understand her kindness. Perhaps she is not so stable after all...Based more on the movies than on the books, but even so not strictly in line with events...
1. Stable Girl

Right, I know I said I'd never change this but I am. I'm going to go through it a chapter at a time and fix it so its not such a monstrosity.   
  
To understand this story better, it would be helpful if you two a moment to read this: you and happy reading! – Sus  
  
The stable girl brushed with long, rhythmic strokes. Soothed and calm, she was amongst horses, all thought of the cruelties and unkindnesses of her world put aside. There came a tread at the door. She glanced up.  
  
"Good morning, Lord Grima." said the stable girl as Grima entered the stables.  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned, looking at her suspiciously.   
  
"Is it?" he replied. He seemed to wonder that she should speak to him.  
  
"A fine morning for riding, if that is my Lord's intention." answered the stable girl. She looked away, but looked back as the silence stretched out. "Does my Lord Grima wish anything done?" she asked politely, as was her way. He narrowed his eyes.  
  
"For what do you name me not 'Wormtongue' like everyone else in this city?" he asked accusingly. The girl looked down. She knew it had been a mistake. She should never have greeted him in the first place. But she felt such guilt and such sorrow for the man insulted by many, ignored by all.  
  
"It is an ugly name for a nobleman to carry..." she said quietly. Her cheeks burned red and she raised a cool hand to quiet them.  
  
Grima blinked and turned to begin to saddle his horse, but the stable girl did not like to stand by while such an inexperienced rider struggled with his own horse.   
  
"Let me Lord..." she said and he looked up, startled to see her willing to help him. He stepped back and she began to prepare the horse. When she was finished he climbed into the saddle and rode off with no thanks and osecond glance. She turned back to her task, but the easy peace of before was not quick to return. 


	2. Stable Maiden

My Lady." curtsied the stable girl. Eowyn glanced at her.  
  
"Prepare my horse." she said imperiously, but not unkindly.   
  
"Yes, Lady." replied the stable girl coldly. She did not like the Lady Eowyn. There had been unpleasantness in their pasts. She turned to the lady's horse, but at that moment Eowyn gasped and started, looking into the shadows near the doorway. "My Lady..." came an oily voice from the darkness, and Lord Grima stepped into the stable proper. The stable girl greeted him with a curtsy, but he did not even look at her. She busied herself with the Lady's horse. After the proper manner of servants, the stable girl did not make effort to eavesdrop, but still the conversation behind her fell clear upon her ears.  
  
"Good evening." said Grima. Eowyn said nothing. "It is a fine evening for a ride, though the lands have become somewhat dangerous after dark. If my Lady intends to ride, perhaps an escort should be arranged? After all, we cannot have the niece of the King coming to harm..." He took a step closer to Eowyn, and she drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin. "I can defend myself well enough, Wormtongue." she said acidly. The stable girl's hands tightened on the stirrup she was shortening. Grima was directly behind her. The skirts of his robes made small sounds on the straw strewn floor.  
  
"And if by escort you mean yourself, I would sooner go alone than ride anywhere with such a snake!" continued Eowyn, and the stable girl realised that she was trembling, for all her haughty tone.  
  
The stable girl's nostrils went white and she felt sick at the Lady's rudeness. The Lord Grima was merely concerned for her safety, and all the great White Lady of Rohan could answer was in common insults used by the kitchen boys! She stood up slowly. "My Lady's horse is ready." she said quietly and respectfully, and resumed her earlier task of sweeping the stable floor. Eowyn swept round, mounted and turned her horse. Grima looked up at her, his face blank. She sneered at him and spurred her horse out of the door. Grima looked away, his face still empty, and though he was a stranger to her in most respects the stable girl knew that expression. It was the mask which those who are used to pain employ to hide it.   
  
With a jolt the stable girl realised she was staring and quickly began to sweep once more. She bent over her task for a minute or so, and, hearing no footsteps, began to feel uneasy. Why had the Lord Grima not left yet? Perhaps he meant to take out his disappointment on her; she had seen it many times, Lords and Ladies who wreaked their foul tempers on the servants. She cowered fearfully as she swept, but when no cutting voice or felling blow was forthcoming she ventured to look up. He was still standing with the same attitude as before, save that he was now watching her with intent.   
  
She blushed a little and looked down at the floor. Then he spoke. "What are your thoughts, stable maiden?" he asked quietly and intensely. The stable girl tried to keep her tone light as she replied. "My thoughts, Lord? Only of the efficient running of my stables and the proper service of my Lords and masters." She stood awkwardly holding her broom, not knowing whether he had finished, aware that she could not go back to her work until he had. After what felt like an age he spoke again. "Then serve this Lord." he came closer. "Tell me, stable maiden, does this manner of speaking...affect you in any way?" The stable girl was puzzled.   
  
"Manner of speaking, lord?" she asked, and then gasped as he spoke again, for his voice seemed quite changed. "When I speak to you thus, how do you feel?" he asked in a golden voice, a voice full of purity and yet awash with seduction and desire. She found she could not answer, and for a moment she merely looked at him with an open mouth and wide eyes. She took a deep breath, and at that moment he stepped away from her. She blinked, the spell was broken. She blushed and looked to her feet, cursing her seemingly continuously red face in his presence. His back was to her.   
  
"How did you feel?" he asked in his tense, low voice.  
  
"I felt...brain-addled, Lord." said the stable girl, for she felt that nothing she could say now would embarrass her more. "I...do not know how I felt..."  
  
"'This power I will give you' he says, 'and she shall be yours.'" Grima interrupted her. "But why then, does it have little or no effect upon her, but all and every effect upon a common stablehand? "The stable girl did not know what to say, but he sounded angry and seemed to expect an answer, and so she replied.  
  
"I know not of 'him' nor of his promises," She spoke quickly, afraid of her own daring in speaking so to a man who held her position as stable mistress, her life even, in his hands. "But I think that my Lord is wasting his time on the Lady Eowyn. She is haughty and heart-proud, she believes none are worthy of her precious self..." she broke off, as Grima began to walk towards the stable doors. He stood there for a while, staring at the sky. His back was to her, and so she could not see his expression. "My Lord?" she said hesitantly. He started, but never took his eyes off the stars.   
  
"Go back to you duties, stable maiden." He left, turning at the door and vanishing from her sight. 


	3. Ina Horse Hair

The stable girl was busy in the stables as usual. Up since dawn, she was not yet tired, though she knew that a drowse would creep up on her as the day progressed. She did not sleep much anyway; her dreams were dark and unrestful. It was still early, early enough that most of the Lords and Ladies were still in bed with no thoughts of riding. She busied herself with the horses' comfort, changing blankets, filling water troughs and hay baskets. Horses did not mock, nor look from the corners of their eyes and smirk. Horses made no distinction between the golden-haired and the dark. She was happy at her work.   
  
The stable girl blinked. She was watched, she sensed it. She continued with her tasks, but a colour was rising on her cheeks and her heart was beating faster. Might it be him? So dangerous and yet so exciting... No, it was not likely, he had visited her stables twice lately in as many days. Most of the Nobility of Rohan was in and out of the stables constantly, but the Lord Grima was not a keen rider, yet another thing which set him apart from the people of Rohan. She could but hope...  
  
Footfalls behind her. She turned and was face to face with him. She blushed deeper. "Good morning, my Lord. Would you like me to prepare your horse?" She blinked under his gaze, but still he did not answer. She swallowed. It was something else, then.  
  
"Stable maiden...I-" he began. His normal veneer of self-assurance and power seemed cracked somehow.  
  
"Ina." she interrupted him.  
  
He stopped, a little perplexed. "Ina." she said again. "It is my name."  
  
"Ina." He repeated. "Ina, I have come to ask you...this night past, when I came to you and asked you..." He could not look at her. He seemed much altered, and yet still carried his air of sensual danger.  
  
Ina's heart beat faster. He was faltering over his words, and his pale face was flushed pink around his delicate cheekbones. He looked so sad and so beautiful that her eyes filmed over with tears. She blinked to clear them.   
  
"Why, though I asked you of delicate things, why then did you not laugh? Why did not you run, or scream? Why..?" he looked at her beseechingly. He could not find the words. Ina's heart broke. At that moment she had an inkling of the Lord Grima's sadness, of his mean, empty, pinched life, and she knew of his pain. One so unloved could not love, could not conceive of love or good-feeling coming to him.   
  
"Why should I laugh at you, my Lord?" she replied softly. His eyes darted about, his hands made vague motions in the air.   
  
"Why, because I am a figure of ridicule!" he said mockingly. "I am the Wormtongue, I am weak, I am not to be trusted!" his voice rose as he derided himself. The words flowed easy from his mouth. This hateful self-flagellation sounded wrong to Ina's ears, but worse was the obvious practice and aid he had had over time in finding such descriptions of himself. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was no longer looking at her and she had to reach out and take his arm to make him stop. He flinched away from her touch, looking affronted. She spoke to him softly, for he looked angry. His power seemed to be returning, and Ina fought an urge to fall silent, to simply look away. She said: "I do not find you so. When I look at you I see a Lord of Edoras, a nobleman, however unhappy."   
  
She stepped closer to him, her heart aspiring to break her chest, and looked him in the eye. There was a scent of cold, damp rooms, of old books and stiff cloth.  
  
All of Edoras suspected of the treachery of 'Wormtongue', and Ina was no exception. She was not so naive. She knew all that was said, of deals with sorcery and evil, of whispered words in an aged ear. But as Grima leaned forward to kiss her, none of it seemed to matter.   
  
He pulled her closer to him and she was wrapped in the folds of his cloaks. Swathes of black cloth enfolded her and she felt safe in his embrace. A knife hilt bumped against her hipbone and she felt that thrill of danger he always carried with him. She broke their kiss and he rested his lips on her neck, sliding slowly down with the tip of his tongue to her collarbone. Her eyes were closed; her breaths came deep as he kissed her again. She stepped back, taking him with her and she rested her back against the stall partition. She opened her eyes and they broke off once more. She looked into his pale eyes at the blue ice that seemed to be imprisoned deep within them. He smiled almost cruelly and seemed about to speak, but was silenced by the sound of loud footsteps at the stable door.  
  
It was a strange sight that greeted Pered the feed-boy as he entered the stables carrying two bags of oats - Grima Wormtongue pressed up against a horse stall with the mistress of the stables! He dropped his oats on the straw littered floor and stepped forward. "Mistress Ina?" he asked.  
  
With one last, long, heart-melting look Grima took his leave of Ina. He strode swiftly through the horse-doors and out, along the path to Meduseld. The feed-boy said again "Mistress Ina..?" and she turned to him. She tried to re-arrange her hair and skirts but they were in disarray.   
  
"The oats, Pered?" she asked. The boy nodded.   
  
"Mistress, is all right with you? Was Wormtongue...taking advantage?" His expression irritated her sorely. His naive and no doubt false concern seemed intolerably stupid, and she said brusquely "No, no Pered. All is well, leave the oats where they lie and attend to you duties elsewhere!"  
  
Pered's look of bewilderment slowly changed into a sneer. "I see it, Mistress Ina, you have found the other of your kind here in Edoras!"   
  
The anger and humiliation were too much for Ina. All the servants hall would know of this by noon-meal! For a moment she felt as a child again, again she heard that shrill girlish voice which seemed to pierce her very flesh. "We don't want you to play with us, Ina-Horse-Hair! Do you not hear me? Was your father a Southron, Ina-Horse-Hair? Take yourself away, Dunlending, we don't want to have to see that bird's nest of yours any longer!" The other children had agreed.  
  
"Get out of my stables, Pered! Take your nose out of my business and go back to you duties!" she half-shouted at the boy. She advanced on him and he stumbled backwards, then turned and ran.  
  
As the stumbling boy left the stables, Ina wandered to the horse-door as if in a daze. Leaning on the doorpost, she gazed out upon the grassy slopes of Edoras. The grey clouds that had been drifting from the South since the daybreak finally delivered on their promise, and it began to rain. 


	4. Lonely Girl

Clink. Clink.  
  
Horses moved softly below, bumping and clinking their chains. Ina sat darning by candle light, a stocking torn by a stray hoof. Occasionally a horse would lash out at her, but only when in distress. She still bore the bruise from this one, just below the knee, but horse wounds did not pain her. There was worse hurt in the world.   
  
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. It was very late, by rights she should be in bed, but she wanted this stocking mended for the morning. She was almost finished when her sharp ears detected a sound in the stable below. A horse whinnied. There was somebody down there. Ina silently laid aside her stocking, and rising noiselessly she slid one hand under her rough mattress. She drew out a fire-iron, a long black poker complete with an iron horse-head to serve as a handle. She crept to the top of the rough wooden stairs that led down to the stable proper, and a shape moved in the gloom below. Ina gripped the poker tightly and held it ready at her side. This was not the first time she had had intruders in her stables at night.  
  
The person in the shadows had not seen her. He – it was almost certainly a man – was lingering by one of the stalls. Whatever his intentions, theft or otherwise, she could show him a thing or two with the poker, she'd done it before. This had not helped her reputation in the capital – the crazy dun-haired horse girl with the dangerous chunk of metal.   
  
The stair creaked and he looked up. Ina decided to make it known that she had discovered him.  
  
"Pray sir, what brings you to the stables at this late hour?" she said in a cold voice. There was no reply. She said "Sir, unless you have reason to be here I must ask you to leave." She held the poker in plain view as she descended the steps, and the figure took a step back into the shaft of moonlight that shone through the horse door. At once she saw – the crouching, apologetic stance, the bulk of his robes in silhouette were unmistakeable. She opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and made as if to leave.  
  
"My Lord!" she cried, and then was ashamed of her loud outburst. He looked back in fright at the poker, and she exclaimed and cast it aside. "My Lord, I am sorry, I did not realise…I often have trouble, men who sneak in at night to…or, or rowdy children looking to rattle the horses." He blinked, and spoke.  
  
"The fault is mine. I should not have come. I should not have disturbed you…" he made as if to leave again, seemingly desperate to stay in control of the situation. Ina was suddenly desperate for him not to go. "No, Lord, stay! Please, I welcome your visit; it makes such a change from-" she stopped. She had been about to say the loneliness, the cold, the empty night.   
  
He smiled, a very small, very hesitant smile, gone as soon as it appeared. She smiled at him, as warmly as she knew how. Her mind whirled. Should she invite him up to her quarters? It might seem forward, and she was suddenly and desperately ashamed of her two tiny rooms at the top of the steps. Still, there was a chair, and the icy night air did not touch her rooms as harshly as they did the stable. Before she could give it any more thought she said, "Come upstairs, it is not so cold." She turned and led the way, not daring to look to see if he followed.  
  
She reached the top of the rough plank stairs and went quickly into her sitting room, picked up the half-darned stocking and stowed it in her sewing box. Still he didn't come. Her heart felt heavy – perhaps he was disgusted, perhaps he was intimidated… A creak on the stairs stilled her anxious thoughts. Her heart beat faster as his shadow entered the room a pace or two ahead of him. He stood, unsure in the doorway, and looked to her with beseeching eyes and an open mouth. She held out her arms to him and he embraced her. The candle on its box in the corner blew out in the draught of his robes. She held him like that in the near-dark, moonlight picking out edges and corners in silver, for a long time. She could feel his heartbeat, as fast as hers, and she broke their embrace to look at him. She leaned in to kiss him in the darkness, and felt as close to love as she could remember; assuming she could remember it. 


	5. Unstable Girl

There was much noise and commotion going on around the steps of Meduseld. Ina did not give it much thought beyond a vague, half conscious hope that it was not due to some new illness of the King. She was using a wooden brush to groom a Lord's chestnut horse, thinking and dreaming of the coming night. The Lord Grima was coming to her again! He had promised as much late last night, when duties called him elsewhere and he could not stay long with her in her humble quarters in the haylofts. She smiled and hummed as she worked, and she was nearing the completion of her task when a familiar voice drifted into hearing.  
"I have only ever served you, my Lord!" Grima's voice pierced the air. Ina looked up. He sounded in pain. She bit her lip, and he screamed. The brush clattered to the floor.  
  
She was no sooner out of the door when Grima barged past her. He was angry, his delicately veined face was quite red. Ina grabbed his arm as he made for his horse. He shook her off.  
"Lord! Where are you going?" she asked in a desperate voice. He did not answer. "Lord, where will you go, alone and unaided?" He turned on her, his lank black hair whipping round his face. "I am found out!" He looked away, as if ashamed. "I am banished! It matters not where I go, and at any rate it should not concern you!" He pushed her out of the way and made again for his horse. "You will be rid of me soon enough."   
She was there ahead of him and began to prepare his horse herself, for though she was loath to see him go she was still the mistress of these stables. As she tightened thongs and looped buckles she said, " I would not be rid of you! Why do you hurt me with such words?" he did not reply, but watched her silently. All too soon her task was done and he mounted up. She looked up at him,   
  
"Ride now, if you must. But remember me. I will be here. Oh, my Lord!" Her eyes welled with tears. "Please, forget me not, though you are far away...and I still sleep here in the hay-lofts of Edoras..." she looked away, ashamed of her tears. He reached down and took her hand, pulling her close to his horse's flank. She looked up at him and he leaned down to place a kiss on lips trembling from weeping.   
  
He pulled away first, too soon for Ina. She tried to smile. "Go. Go on to pastures new, and fare you better there than you have in the realm of the Horse Lords!" she whispered. He grimaced as if he doubted it, and with a long last look he spurred his horse onwards, out of the door and away from the Kingdom of Rohan forever.  
  
Ina stood in the doorway until he was long out of sight across the plains. A single tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped away quickly lest someone see it, and ridicule her. 


	6. Shield Maiden

Ina awoke in the cold dawn, two hours or so before her usual rising time. She lay in her bed in the hayloft, and from that position she could see the lightening sky through her tiny unglazed window. She had dreamed again, as she had not for many years, of her childhood. Back then she was Ina-Horse-Hair. Back then she was an outcast, and all because of one other little girl, the perfect little girl. The golden haired young Lady. Ina had stood out, the one dark spot in the crowd of shining tresses, for though her skin was as fair as any in Rohan and her eyes as blue, her hair was dark brown like a wild Dunlending's. Ina did not know why. Her mother's hair had been yellow like wheat, and her father's also. Her brother, dead these past seven winters of a fever had been as blonde as his parents. It was a cruel trick of nature to give a child dark hair in the golden kingdom of Rohan, and to place her in the path of the young, neglected seeker of attention, Lady Eowyn.   
  
Horses stamped and snorted down below, but she paid no heed, for she was used to them. She lay and gazed at the window, hoping to drop back into sleep and make use of the short time still available to her for rest, when a bird landed on the sill. She hoped it would not come inside, it would create noise and mess and unnecessary trouble. The bird dropped something from a claw and took flight again. The something rolled across the floor, coming to a rest within arms reach of her low bed and reaching out she took it. It was a letter, rolled and bound in wax. Breaking the wax she unfurled it. Its message was short:  
  
"Ina. Isengard - the Tower of Orthanc, North West of Edoras. A great evil will befall Rohan before the week is out. Ride swiftly; I would be with you again. Grima."  
  
She got up to dress, though it was madness for her to be abroad at this time, for she had many hard duties ahead of her in the coming day and precious little time to sleep already. She woke now for a purpose and could not help herself. Once dressed she slipped silently down the stairs and into the stables. She had no horse of her own and was unwilling to ride one of the servants' shared mounts, the poor beasts did twice the work they should already. Her eyes fell on Lady Eowyn's steed.   
  
Within five minutes Ina was mounted and ready. Into the pale sunlight she trotted out of the horse-door and looked to the North-West. Now she must make her decision. There was talk of the citizens fleeing to Helm's Deep. If she left now she might not be able to get back in time, she may never make it to the place of safety. But could she live with herself if she chose safety over heart's desire?  
  
Her mount tossed its head, its long golden mane catching the sunlight and reminding Ina of someone. Her expression hardened. She was as good as any Shield-Maiden; she would follow her instinct and ride hard over the plains. Lady Eowyn's tack included a short dagger and scabbard attached to the saddle. Ina gripped its hilt and drew it part way out of its sheath. Then with a cry she thrust it home, spurred on her steed and galloped down the steep slope towards the gate of Edoras. 


	7. Stable Girl No Longer

Ina spurred her horse onwards. She had been riding hard and fast for almost a day, but the animal was well rested and healthy, so her journey was swift. She folded her cloak more closely against the cruel wind, which whipped her hair as the grasses of the plain. She whispered in her mount's ear: "On Windfola! Make haste my sweet!"   
  
Over the mountains in the distance loomed Orthanc, large and grim though still dishearteningly far. She refused to give in to her weariness, though she despaired of reaching that black and jagged tower by nightfall.  
  
Her presence in the capital would have been long missed.   
  
Ina galloped round the last of the mountains and into the Gap of Rohan. She looked northwards towards Isengard, and her heart leaped as she saw, on the banks of the Isen not ten minute's ride distant, a grazing and riderless horse. It was Lyg, Lord Grima's horse, recognisable even from this distance if she was any kind of stable mistress. With a glad heart she made north and galloped along the line of the Isen.  
  
She slowed to a walk as she approached the grazing horse. It was indeed Lyg as she had guessed, jet-black he was and happy to see his stall-mate Windfola. Ina dismounted and the two horses nuzzled one another as old friends, naturally so for they had been foals together. Lyg was tethered with a long rope to a nearby tree, of his rider there was no sign. Ina felt unease rise in her breast. Orcs roamed the lands between Rohan and Isengard, only her steed's quickness of foot had saved Ina from being spotted by a raiding party, and now that it was nearly night they would be out in force.  
  
She comforted herself with the knowledge that if Grima had been taken by orcs they would not have spared his horse.  
  
"You have come." Ina started and whipped round. It was he. He stood in the long evening shade of a tree, and could have been watching her for some time. Relief was a well inside her, and she would have run to him but for his face, which was stark and unfriendly.  
  
"I have come, my Lord, after many hard hours of riding. Art not pleased to see me?" she asked. He only blinked.  
  
"I did not think you would come. I have waited all this day and I could not believe..." he stopped and was silent.  
  
Ina smiled and remembered why she loved this fragile, unsure man. She went to him. "But I am here. I would have been here sooner were there a better horse I could have taken." He looked at her with eyes filled with some emotion. She thought it looked like fright. "Had I charge of a Mearas I would have ridden it to reach you. As it is I took Lady Eowyn's Windfola-" she began, but he froze in her arms. He shrank back from her and she saw that he held his left arm close to his side, and that his collar was high upon his neck.   
  
Hesitantly she reached for his arm but he snatched it away, and she said "My Lord, what is wrong?" Gently but insistently she took his arm and, holding his white and delicate wrist she slipped his sleeve up on his pale forearm. She gasped. Purple and black bruising was strung between elbow and wrist. She looked up, mouth and eyes wide in sympathy. "Oh, who has done this thing to you?" she asked in a strained voice. His face was flushed and he did not answer her. She reached to his collar but he pushed her arm aside. When she did not desist he lashed out angrily and hit her across the side of the face.   
  
She raised a hand to the livid red marks on her cheek. He looked shocked and a little frightened at his own action, and he took a step back. She looked at him, and he blinked at her, his hands were shaking. She reached again for him and he seemed to expect a returning blow, for he flinched but did not stop her as she pulled at his collar. She moved it aside and gasped again. An angry red gash surrounded by purple and yellow bruising stretched from collar to jaw-bone, and as she stared he closed his eyes in humiliation. She looked to him again, and repeated her question. This time she received an answer.  
  
"My master. He was angry with for my expulsion from Meduseld..." Ina was incredulous.   
  
"Your master?" she asked. "And do you continue to serve such a master?"  
  
He nodded. She was dismayed. "But why would you do such a thing? Why would you cling to one who treats you so, who strikes you?" His eyes strayed to the red marks on her cheek, and she blushed and fell silent. To break the silence she said "What did you mean in your letter, a great evil which will befall Rohan?"  
  
"That matters not. All that matters is that I wished to see you." he replied. Ina was astonished to see that his old air of quiet self-assurance and power had returned, here and now of all times! She felt she should press her question, but desire was over-ruling her judgement and she moved forward to kiss him. They stayed like that under the trees for a long time, each trying to forget the parting that must come.  
  
Just as Ina felt that her self-control was slipping entirely, he pulled away from her. She sat down heavily on a mound of grass and he stepped a little distance away. She looked at the darkening sky. Some stars were already visible.  
  
"And now we must be sundered, I suppose." she said quietly. "You must return to your master..." this last with distaste, "and I to my duties in Edoras, though it will be a hard and dangerous road to undertake in the dark."  
  
He said nothing. Ina had the feeling that he was gathering his resolve to make some statement or execute some difficult action. He murmured something to himself and turned to face her.  
  
"I would not have you risk the journey back to Edoras alone. And...I would not be without you. If you will come, I will request to my Master that you stay with me in the tower of Orthanc."  
  
Ina looked up at him, and he pulled her to her feet, and he kissed her in the twilight amongst the mountains, on the banks of the river Isen.  
  
Ina was no longer the stable mistress of Edoras. She knew she would never go back. 


	8. Traitor Girl

Epilogue Part Two   
  
Thoughts of the Snake  
  
She mounts my horse in front of me. Her balance and stance is perfect. Of course, she has been handling horses since she was old enough to name one. I put my arms around her waist to hold the reins. Such simple joy from such simple contact! I am puzzled. Why does she let me touch her so? Why should she allow me, pale and twisted as I am to caress her, to hold her, to kiss her?  
  
Part of me still suspects some trickery. If she has fooled me...I will hurt her. I will make her suffer.  
  
I tense my hands on the reins, and my clenched fists dig into her stomach slightly, yet she does not complain. What is this strange submission?  
  
We ride in silence towards Orthanc. There is fear growing in me. What if my master should be angry? Will he cast her out? Will he give her to the orcs? I am putting her in terrible danger. I am so selfish! All this so I can posses her, have her close to me while I sleep... Such self-indulgence will not go unpunished, I know it.   
  
Perhaps Saruman will beat me again, and he will not be gentle. Let him beat me, but if he lays but one finger on Ina I will...I know not what I will do. I know not what I could do! Curse my frail body and pale skin! It shows every blow, every mark, exposing my weakness.  
  
She lays her hands on mine. So sweet and so strange, this un-self-conscious touch. Night falls. I do not fear the orcs, they will not cross their master. I would not cross my master either, and yet here I am doing exactly that. I fear for her life more than my own. I do not think my master would kill me, but he may hurt her, to punish me...  
  
Why did I bring her at all?! Have I taken leave of my senses? She was safe in Edoras, at least for the moment. Nowhere in Rohan will be safe before the week is out, but there is no reason to believe she will be any safer in Isengard.   
  
She seems to sense my thought. Perhaps she feels my muscles tense, my body stiffen in fear and rage. She leans back against me and holds her hands over mine.  
  
And I think...that I know why I brought her. She has been kind to me…she has made me feel warm, for the first time in years, perhaps, but more than that. Could it be because I love her? I have loved no one...almost no one for so many years, maybe never truly in my life. Why should I feel it for this girl? This woman?   
  
Perhaps we are both the same. 


	9. Kept Girl

Ina was afraid. Orthanc was black and menacing, and quite alien to her eyes. Isengard was a wasteland, and orcs leered at them from their work near the roadside. Grima's arms around her kept her warm, but they could not make her feel safe. There were not a league from the tower now, and its sheer size made Ina feel very vulnerable. She looked up, searching for something, she knew not what. From an upper balcony she thought she saw a flash of white, but it was gone almost as soon as she had noticed it. Her fear turned to dread.  
  
They rode to a small outbuilding, which seemed to be in use as a makeshift stable for Lyg. Ina tried not to notice the squalor, but her horse instinct was appalled. She dismounted. No horse should be kept in such conditions. She quieted her mind by imagining how she would improve things after she took up residence here. The thought of living in this bleak place made her blood run cold.  
  
And then she remembered Edoras. The snide glances, the people who looked from the corners of their eyes. All of the times she had been shunned, been snubbed openly and humiliated subtly. The families who would not allow their children to take up a job at the stables if it meant working for "that Dunlending wench". No-one wanted her in Edoras. Her skill with the horses would be missed, but there were plenty of young stablehands who would be capable of taking her place. Very soon people would forget. Ina would not be missed. Here at least one man wanted her, and that was better than a warm bed, and horses as her only friends.  
  
She turned to him questioningly and he inclined his head towards the door. She moved hesitantly and he guided her through, one arm at her waist. They crossed the barren earth to the black steps of Orthanc. Ina's steps faltered as she saw what awaited them at the top. A tall man, clad in shining white and with white hair and beard of equal purity. He held in his hand a long black staff, cruelly spiked at the end like the tower of Orthanc itself and topped with a shining white globe of crystal.   
  
This was the wizard Saruman, Grima's master.  
  
He looked as cruel as his reputation, and he turned to Grima, raising his eyebrows in question. Grima's fear was apparent, but Ina was determined not to show her nervousness to this man, and hiding her feelings was her great talent. Grima ascended the steps to stand in front of Saruman.  
  
"Master...this girl is a servant from Rohan, from Edoras, and she can tell us much of the capital, she can tell us of the things which only servants know..." he said, and continued in this vein, making excuses for bringing a girl from Rohan into his master's presence. As he spoke Saruman's smile increased, until the wizard raised a hand and Grima fell silent.   
  
"Exactly what, Wormtongue, would you ask of me?" he said. Ina registered the foul nickname with a tiny surge of anger, but kept her face blank and her features calm.  
  
Grima hesitated. "I thought that this girl could be of use to us...to you, master, if we kept her here. I would question her for you, and we could learn more of how to crush the Rohirrim entirely..."   
  
Saruman nodded. "And where is she to sleep, Worm? Am I to give over another room of my tower to a prisoner such as she?"   
  
Grima's mouth opened and shut soundlessly. "I thought, my Lord, I would request, that she be quartered with me..."   
  
He seemed to be half his usual height when speaking to his master, and at this point he cowered down even lower, as if he expected a blow, but Saruman only smiled evilly and looked at Ina.  
  
"So it is that way, Worm? You have found a woman who will tolerate you! Or perhaps you took her by force? No, do not tell me, I do not wish to know. But Worm, this one has dark hair like you. What has happened to that golden haired maiden you desired so terribly? Would she not have you?" Grima looked away. "No." said Saruman, relishing the damage his words were doing. Ina looked at her feet. She wished fervently that she was brave and she could defend him, but her fear was too great.  
"I do not imagine that she would." continued the wizard. His manner became businesslike." Take her away, Worm, and do with her what you will. But keep her in your quarters and out of my sight, if she strays into other areas of my tower I will take steps." He turned and went through the doors of the tower.   
  
Grima looked back at Ina, and she hurried up the steps to his side. She put her arms around him and together they entered Orthanc.  
  
  
  
Grima's three rooms were small and cold. The walls, ceiling and floor were made of the same black stone, and all that his bedroom contained was a small bed and a trunk, both hewn from some black wood. They entered, and Grima shut the door before sitting down on the bed. He looked at Ina, and his eyes seemed beseeching while at the same time cruel and hard.   
  
"Did I take you by force?" he asked suddenly and almost harshly. Ina looked back at him and said nothing. His face contorted. "Well? Is that how it was?"  
  
"My Lord knows for himself that it was not." Ina said in her quiet voice. "Why does he need to question me? Can he not believe the evidence of his own memory?" This seemed to strike a nerve; Grima flushed red and looked away for a moment. Ina was abashed. Perhaps he could not.  
  
"I mean to say, my Lord, that you did not take me by force." she moved towards him. "I came of my own free will. I would not be here if I did not want to be." she was standing over him, and he looked up at her with his strange, frightened expression. He took her wrists and pulled her down onto the bed. She sat next to him, and he reached up to take out the pins that held her neat bun in place. A wave of dark brown hair fell past her shoulders, and she lay back as he leaned over her, his long black hair hanging over his face He gently brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and kissed her. 


	10. Betrayal

Ina opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, and knew where she was. She turned over, but she was alone. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, no, the room was indeed empty. She looked to the window, it was quite light. She got up and dressed.  
  
She left the room and stepped into the corridor, only to leap backwards as a crack echoed around the smooth stone walls, followed by a horrific scream. Ina trembled. She took a deep breath and stepped back out into the long, curving corridor. She could hear sounds like footsteps, but they sounded far off and got no louder while she stood at the door. Cautiously she began to move in what she thought was the opposite direction from the one the scream had come from. No sense in getting mixed up in a wizard's business.  
  
She sensed she was getting higher, it seemed that the corridor spiralled upwards to the summit of the tower. She was some distance from Grima's rooms, counting doors as she went so as not to get lost in this endless, curved corridor of black stone, when she heard the sound again. That hideous crack and then a crying, wailing sound that raised the hairs on the back of Ina's neck. She pressed herself against the wall, and realised the sound of heavy, panicked breathing seemed to be coming from the nearest open door. She edged towards it, and heard the wizard's cruel voice.   
  
"Now...I have indulged you in your failure, Worm. You are fast outliving your usefulness." Ina could hear a sound like rough cloth scraping along the floor. She edged nearer still.  
  
"Master! Master I will do anything!" came Grima's anguished voice. "Please, hurt me no more! I will do anything to serve you master!" Ina peered around the doorpost. Saruman was standing with his back to the door, with Grima grovelling at his feet. Neither man could see her.  
  
Ina could almost hear Saruman's cruel smile when he spoke next. "Anything? Dear Wormtongue, I am not sure you realise what it is you promise." He pointed the tip of his staff at Grima, and the kneeling man yelped, covering his face with his hands. The wizard laughed. "Very well Worm. I will accept your offer. Prove your loyalty to me." When there was no reply Saruman prodded Grima with the end of his staff. There was a crack and a smell of burning. "Yes!" Grima shrieked. "Yes master, thank you, anything..." He began to cry.   
  
Ina had had enough. She turned and ran back the way she had come, frantically counting doors until she reached Grima's rooms. She quietly closed the door behind her and lay shaking on the bed for quite some time.  
  
Saruman turned slowly to look at the empty doorway. He smirked and looked back to Grima. "Kill her." Grima's eyes opened wide with fright. "Kill...kill whom, my Lord?" Saruman's smirk deepened. "You know perfectly well whom, Worm. Take your little knife that you conceal so badly and cut her throat." He turned and swept from the room. Grima watched him go with hate in his pale blue eyes.   
  
Ina slept. She did not stir as the door creaked open, and Grima crept softly in. He came into the room skulking low to the ground, clutching his shoulder and trembling.He looked at Ina and his hands shook. He reached to the knife that was semi-hidden in his robes. He began to keen under his breath, little sing-song melodies and sounds. He approached the bed. Ina lay peacefully, her hair spread in a fan over the rough quilt. She looked soft and vulnerable in sleep. Grima's humming became frantic and strained. He drew his knife from its sheath. It made a faint ringing sound and Ina stirred. The blade shook. He moved closer, and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Ina's neck. She stirred again and Grima's humming gave way to a strangled wail. Ina opened her eyes.   
  
She looked from Grima's panicked expression to the knife, and her eyes widened. She tried to sit up, but Grima pushed her down onto the bed. She screamed and he clamped a hand over her mouth, but she was strong and could fight him. They tussled and eventually by luck more than anything else Grima managed to get his knife to her throat. She froze, looking down at the blade as it scraped the skin of her throat. Grima breathed angrily between his teeth and looked at her. His face was purple with rage, the veins on his temples stood out. He looked into her eyes and saw the fear in them.  
  
Grima went limp. He took a step back and the knife clattered to the floor. He put his hands to his face and sank to the floor, wailing thinly under his breath. Ina sat on the bed, panting, out of breath. She was torn between sympathy and fear.   
  
Grima whispered something Ina couldn't hear clearly. He said it again. "My master...he told me...he made me..." Ina understood. She began to rise when a voice from the doorway made them both look up in terror.  
  
"You have failed once again, Worm. You will be punished." Saruman stepped into the room. He looked around with disdain. He evidently never set foot in Grima's quarters if it could be avoided. He looked at Ina, and her heart turned to ice.   
  
Saruman advanced on her, and reached out, his thin white fingers groping for her neck.The last thing she saw was Grima, horror stricken but powerless standing behind his master. 


	11. Broken

Crushed and broken.  
  
She is all broken. I cannot mend her. Where has she gone? Her beautiful hair, her strong features are still there. Where has her voice gone? The light in her eyes?  
  
He did it. He crushed her voice out of her. He took her and he broke her.  
  
How I hate him! How I wish I could leave him!  
  
There is blood on her dress. her arm is bent under her, the angle is all wrong. I want to move it, I want to make her comfortable, but she is so cold!  
  
It is cold out here. Crouched here on the hard ground. The ground is so hard! That's why she's broken. His hands around her neck took her away and the hard ground broke her body. I should have known; no good ever came of getting close to me.  
  
I hate him, and i hate myself. I will bury her, and then he will punish me. I deserve it, it is my fault that she's dead. When I touch her cheek it is cold. When I say goodbye she does not hear. I say it anyway.   
  
He is watching me. I can see him on the balcony. I know he is smiling. He will probably hurt me soon. He has hurt me enough already.  
  
I hate him. One day I will hurt him.  
  
THE END 


End file.
